Timepiece
by Nightfall Rising
Summary: Ever have one of Those Mornings? Xellos has Those Mornings -all the time.- Sing OY! For the life of a minion. Part three up.
1. Alarm Clock

Disclaimer: These people belong to their creators, not to me.  
  
Warnings for intimations of torture and the wholesale slaughter of chickens.  
  
_|88:88 88|_  
  
Timesheet  
  
by Nightfall  
  
part one  
  
_|88:88 88|_  
  
_|4:14 AM|_  
  
Darkness shuttering away to a rough, grey ceiling. Mmm... stone. Grey stone. Blue stone. Baby chimera with delicious temper. Baby princesses with burning hatred. Lovely little sorceresses leaving trails and wakes of destruction. All eminently teasable.  
  
Hungryyyyyyy...  
  
Breakfast. Breakfast soon. But if breakfast is soon, then...  
  
_|4:15 AM|_  
  
POUNCE! "Huff huff huff pant whiiiiiiiine yip yip yip snarl!"  
  
"All right! I'm up! I'm already up!"  
  
"Yip yip yip!"  
  
"Gah! Keep your breath and your claws out of my face, you dumb canid!"  
  
"Whiiiiiiiinesnarl!"  
  
"I know you're hungry. I'm hungry, too. I don't suppose the pack would let me eat first for once in my undeath?"  
  
"Growl."  
  
"Well, it was worth a try."  
  
COLD floor! Maybe someday she'll let me have a carpet. And maybe new pajamas. This pair's getting ratty. Better keep the argument on a 'keeping up appearances' note and not mention how BLOODY COLD it is in here! No hope for a new blanket, of course.  
  
"Fenris, where are my pants?"  
  
"Snrkhmph."  
  
"I'm not feeding you until I'm fully clad."  
  
"YIP?! Snaaaarrrrl!"  
  
"Are you kidding? What if someone turns up? You think Master would want me to walk around in these? ...Good boy."  
  
"Growl."  
  
"...Okaaaay, fine. Good big bad wolf. Now pull those teeth in before I remind you who's beta around here and who's just another piece of the pack."  
  
"Hrmph."  
  
Dumb wolves. Nothing but hack and slash and feed me, beta! As though I didn't have enough to do. Inconsiderate pack. Just because I have opposable thumbs.  
  
"You know, someday I'm going to make you people catch and skin your own chickens. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, letting someone human- shaped do it for you. I mean, every canine in existence who hasn't been spoiled rotten into a domesticated stupor feeds itself."  
  
"Growl!"  
  
"Funny thing, Fenny-me-pup, but I find that my observations only piss people off when they hit the mark."  
  
Where's my shirt? There it is. Needs ironing. And de-dusting. Under the bed with the dust bunnies is no place for a good uniform piece. This shirt, of course, is another story. Why is it mustard yellow, again? Am I some hyper-sanguineous Chaos-Dragony-type minion that I should be forced to wear the most bilious shade of beige in existence? Why does my uniform have to make me look sallow? You'd think the hair would be a hint about my ideal color scheme.  
  
And yet they question my orientation. You'd think the hideous ensemble that no sane gay entity would be caught upright in would toss them a hint.  
  
It'd be wrong, of course, but there you are.  
  
What the... oh, *Master.* Again?  
  
"Fenris?"  
  
Ooh, I got the deadly tone right. Ooh, look at the pointy little ears drooping. I'm good.  
  
"You gnawed my boots."  
  
Droop, little ears, droop, droop. Heehee.  
  
"New boots! Fetch! NOW!"  
  
Dolphin and Phibrizzo's minions get to form clothing from their own substance. I have to run back home and change every time I get a little scratch. Of course, they're totally undisciplined and essentially unrecognizable from one moment to the next. And it is easier to pretend you're all better after you've been ripped in half when they think the perfect new shirt is part of you and you have energy to spare for it. But if my boots were part of me, we wouldn't have to go through this every other week.  
  
"Ah. Thank you, Fenris. What a moderately well-behaved canine you are. No, I will not scratch behind your ears. You, sir, are in disgrace. I may even send you to the doghouse if you don't behave yourself. Now, bring me my ankle-wraps."  
  
[end part one] 


	2. Chores and Breakfast

Disclaimer: These people belong to their creators, not to me.  
  
Warnings for intimations of torture and the wholesale slaughter of chickens.  
  
_|88:88 88|_  
  
Timesheet  
  
by Nightfall  
  
part two  
  
_|88:88 88|_  
  
_|5:02 AM|_  
  
Damn. All. Chickens.  
  
_|5:25 AM|_  
  
It's not that I don't appreciate having my cell far away from the feeding arena. It's not that I don't understand the no-shortcuts-before-breakfast rule. I know drawing on her power disturbs her. I don't want to disturb her. She needs her sleep. So I'm not complaining about not being able to teleport in the morning. I just wish these corridors weren't so long. I've only got twenty minutes or so to deal with breakfast now.  
  
It is nice to have a few minutes to myself before everyone wakes up. I'll grant that. Thank Master for my staff, that's all I can say. Especially on cold, damp mornings like today, when the wet seeps in between the stones and plays havoc with my leg. Stupid wound.  
  
Oh, the trouble I would be in if anyone knew about that! It'd be time for everyone's favorite game, 'Let's gang up on the gimp-demon!' Yay! My favorite!  
  
Fortunately, a little wink, a little 'come into my parlor,' and they don't look past the sashay. Nice sashay. Nice masking sashay. Nice propping-up weight-taking staff.  
  
Damn. Fifteen minutes. Damn damp. Damn leg.  
  
_|5:45 AM|_  
  
Ah. Nothing like a young, sentient female from a culture with notions of chivalry and honor hog-tied, gagged, and abandoned in the corner for a beautiful breakfast of anticipatory terror. It's not at the level I'm used to, though. It must be getting around the dungeons that I haven't been doing anything to them recently. That won't do: this has to last me all day! I'd better do something to her.  
  
But no, tomorrow's going to be even busier than today. I'd better be extra- silly, and then tomorrow morning I can get in a good helping of betrayal with my fear. Yum.  
  
We're vampires, really. It's all a little sordid and distasteful, when you get right down to it. But there you are. No race can help its nutritional requirements. A demon's got to eat, just the same as anyone else.  
  
Silly-cute. That shouldn't be hard. It's my stock-in-trade, after all. But I think I'm in a good mood, so maybe I'll do something special, something a little different.. There's nothing like breakfast in bed over a good book to lift your spirits.  
  
Well, okay, over bed. I'm fully clad, wide awake, and not under the covers, and this particular book--or at least, the essay I'm reading in it at the moment--is a discourse on the life-history of the liver fluke. Most people would probably say it's pretty dull stuff. But what can I say? I'm an easy target for inspiration. And there's so much one can do with intracorporeal organisms.  
  
People think beasts are all four-legged creatures. But bacteria and dragonflies are as much in Master's purview and mine as wolves are. It's amazing how many people forget things like that. It's only fish I have no mastery of. And probably viruses; I think those belong to Phibrizzo. Or maybe Dynast. But the carriers are all alive, so it doesn't much matter.  
  
Speaking of things that are alive...  
  
"I hope you're comfortable, dear lady."  
  
"Mphrll mmphymph, ru mpher!"  
  
"Tsk! Tsk! Such language! Oh, but I think I can understand that. These ropes are terribly course, aren't they. Such a trial for such delicate skin."  
  
"Uzzuwtllklluallsmdeh! Zffadn! "  
  
"Now, now, calm yourself, Such an excitable little thing you are. So terribly worked up. You must be dreadfully anxious. Let's see what we can do about that, hm?"  
  
It's really amazing how talking like someone out of a bad romance novel can get some of these chicks' guards down. Even if you talk like the villain. It's because they suddenly think they know what to expect. Well, child, let your guard down around me, and you deserve every single thing you have coming to you. You know who I am.  
  
"Fido!"  
  
Thump thwump thumpity thump thump. Swish, swish. "Pant, pant, rrrn?"  
  
"Now, my dear, this is Fido. He's quite a relatively gentle wolf."  
  
Relatively being the operative word.  
  
"I'm everlastingly sorry, but I'm afraid I must forfeit your delightful company soon for the trials of my duty."  
  
No kidding.  
  
"Fido, this girl has been such good company to me that I would like to reward her. Do you understand?"  
  
"Pant, pant."  
  
"Good wolf. Now, drag one of the plucked and deboned chickens--NOT the feathery ones, do you understand? One of the prepared chickens through the fire for a while, and stop before it gets black. Then bring it to her in the dungeon. Take scent."  
  
"Snrfl drool."  
  
"GOOOOD doggie! And now, dear, I must let you take your leave." Snap!  
  
Okay, she didn't quite buy that. Must have been over the top. That's all right, smug outrage or even skeptical cynicism will do in a pinch, if I can't have outright betrayal. Maybe she'll change her mind when the chicken gets there. Still, I've got to work on toning it down.  
  
"Fetch and rescue, Fido. And don't drag it in the dirt this time."  
  
"Yip!" Scurry.  
  
Now, there goes a pathetic excuse for a wolf.  
  
[end part two] 


	3. Coffee

Disclaimer: These people belong to their creators, not to me.  
  
No more warnings; the chickens are already dead.  
  
_|88:88 88|_  
  
Timesheet  
  
by Nightfall  
  
part three  
  
_|88:88 88|_  
  
|5:50 AM|_  
  
Gah! Clock say bad thing! Okay. Okay. I am a fast, speedy demon. I can do this. To the bar in ten minutes before she wakes up. I can do it. Fast, speedy demon. Fast, speedy demon.  
  
Fast, speedy demon with bum leg. There are some days I thank my human mother for teaching me about callousness, cruelty, injustice, and politics at such a young and impressionable age. Then there are the days my schedule runs overtime before breakfast! What was the *matter* with those chickens, anyway?  
  
_|6:00 AM|_  
  
"XELLOS! Owwwieeeeee..."  
  
"Yes, Master!"  
  
"WHERE'S MY PICK-ME-UP? OW!"  
  
"Right here, Master!"  
  
Gulp gulp gulp. "Thazbetter. Go make me some coffee'n breakfast."  
  
"Yes, Master!"  
  
I wonder if she knows how much like Zelgadis she sounds in the mornings. I don't think she'd appreciate the comparison. It's kind of endearing, though.  
  
"'N'stop being perky at six in the bloody ack morning."  
  
"...I'll keep that in mind, Master."  
  
If you'd only make yours up, Master. Oh, well, at least it's only an injunction. At least she's not Gaav or Phibrizzo, to punish on the first warning. I'm very lucky, really.  
  
_|6:01 AM|_  
  
"XELLOS!"  
  
"Yes, Master!"  
  
"WHERE'S MY PICK-ME-UP?"  
  
"Inside you, Master!"  
  
"...Whaaa?"  
  
"That's why it doesn't hurt to scream, Master."  
  
"Oh. Well, where's my coffee, then?"  
  
"I'm boiling the water now, Master."  
  
"Howlongzitgonnatake?"  
  
"Um... I can torment the salamander if you want it quickly, Master."  
  
"Good idea. Gold star, that man."  
  
"Thank you, Mas--"  
  
"GO AWAY AND MAKE ME COFFEE!"  
  
"Ma'am!"  
  
_|6:04:01 AM|_  
  
"XELLOS!"  
  
"Yes, Master!"  
  
"Where's my coffee?"  
  
"It's almost done, Master."  
  
"NOW!"  
  
_|6:04:12 AM|_  
  
"Xellos?"  
  
"Yes, Master?"  
  
"It's black."  
  
"You wanted it NOW!, Master. I didn't have time to fix it up, but here's the sugar, and the cream..."  
  
"Cream? As in milk?"  
  
"Yes, master."  
  
"Ew. You put cow juice in it?"  
  
"Er, yes, Master. That's what stops it being black."  
  
"I may never drink coffee again."  
  
"That's up to you, of course, Master."  
  
"Here, let me try it without."  
  
"Of course, Master."  
  
_|6:04:35 AM|_  
  
"ACK! Pthbt! Yuck! Cow juice! Now!"  
  
"Right away, Master!"  
  
Okay, that was worth it.  
  
[end part three] 


	4. and Conversation

Disclaimer: These people belong to their creators, not to me.  
  
No more warnings; the remaining chickens have earned a period of grace.  
  
Notes: well, folks, this is as far as I've gotten so far, and I'm a bit stalled now. Not quite sure where to take it from here... I was thinking of heading it into the puppet episode, but come on, a humorfic about a filler? Anyone got any better ideas? If I do continue this, it'll certainly go into one episode or another. Call it a poll and let me know.  
  
Thanks to those of you who have responded so far. May your numbers swell and increase and become a powerful force for good in the universe--or my head, at least. But then, getting a review from Xellas is probably head- swelling enough right there (eee!)...  
  
Asteria, thanks for your praise and attention. It's nice when someone cares enough about one's quality of work to make a correction. To the best of my knowledge, it's never stated definitively in canon how the mystery priest came into being. But hey, I'm only in-depth familiar with the anime; I've only read one of the manga. It's also been a while since I really combed the series (should probably do that again, but aargh, Realplayer!), and I may have conveniently forgotten something. If you can find a source that backs up your impression, let me know, and I'll gladly plaster a big AU poster over my entire body of work. My personal impression is that Xellos is way too good at humans to never have been one.  
  
_|88:88 88|_  
  
Timesheet  
  
by Nightfall  
  
part four  
  
_|88:88 88|_  
  
_|6:06 AM|_  
  
"Ahhhhhh. Not up to your usual standards, darling minion."  
  
"No, Master, I regret to agree that it wasn't. May I have your permission to lull the chickens into a false sense of security? I think they're catching on."  
  
"...You think the chickens are catching on."  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
"The birds."  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
"I mean, the things with the brains the size of chickpeas."  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
"In point of fact, the birdbrains."  
  
"Exactly, Master."  
  
"..."  
  
"What can I say, Master? In times of adversity, those who can learn and adapt survive. And as your right hand, I hope I may be forgiven for priding myself on being an apt tool of adversity."  
  
"Hmm. You may have a point."  
  
"Thank you, Master. I'll allocate a portion of the budget to dog food until they've stopped panicking at my scent."  
  
And maybe longer. Take that, Fenris. Kibble for you until you learn to leave my boots alone! DRY kibble!  
  
"Now, what do we have scheduled for today? Any new business?"  
  
"Well, Master, did you want me to spend today with the Inverse girl or working on the inventory or working on the draconic problem or the Gaav problem or something else? Because Young Master Greyweir stumbles downstairs very early in the morning, and if you want me to spend the day with Miss Inverse I should join them before he gets up."  
  
"...Stumbles, Xellos?"  
  
"Well, you see, Master, what with Miss Inverse's temper tantrums and the little Princess's various personality quirks and, if I may so flatter myself, my own efforts, he doubtless feels it wise to be fully caffeinated before anyone else wakes up."  
  
"...And you wish to foil this attempt?"  
  
Oh, baby, yeah. You can get a lot of flirting in before he wakes up enough to punch you.  
  
"It's an exercise of increasing returns for minimal effort, Master. When he wakes up after anyone but the swordsman, it puts him in a bad mood at least until lunch, and he does the most delicious spirals. And also, the more often it happens, the worse the initial mood."  
  
"I see. I have a question for you, my minion."  
  
"Yes, Master?"  
  
"How do you survive on just breakfast and the dregs of annoyance you can evoke in them? Your low maintenance is one of your more desirable traits as my servant, but I confess I don't understand it."  
  
"Well, Master, they're more easily provoked than you might think. But the truth is..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Blush, look modest, smile through the eyelashes.  
  
"I'm on a diet. --Ooooh, Master, that looked painful! Let me help you up..."  
  
[end part four] 


End file.
